


Run on a Road Trip with me

by TenebyTheTrickster



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Food, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Road Trips, Running Away, Slow Burn, Song: Somebody To Love (Queen), Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenebyTheTrickster/pseuds/TenebyTheTrickster
Summary: A human AU where:A. J. Crowley is hopelessly in love, owns a bar and needs to run away. So he drags his best friend along.A. Z. Fell (Aka Aziraphale) loves food, Europe and his 'best friend'.  So he lets himself be dragged to small motel rooms, fancy restaurants and nice sights.Hastur really hates Crowley.(Human AU/RoadTrip AU, with the Ineffable Husbands being both idiots, but, you know, in love)





	Run on a Road Trip with me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first fanfic for Good Omens!  
> In all honesty, my fanfic after ages. So I might be a little rusty. But Ineffable Husbands are the thing, and I couldn't resist.
> 
> No Beta read, sorry. But I hope I bring you some enjoyment!

Crowley hummed gently with a dull, quiet music as he wiped wine glasses with a cloth that certainly seen better days, but still was clean enough to actually be good to use. He swooned lazily to the tunes as he carefully placed down the glasses into their place on shelves, attatched to the wall, underlit with a pleasant orange light.

He ran the cloth over the bar table, his workspace and even the sink. He let his eyes wander across the bar and lazy smile slipped on his lips. As much as he didn't love his job, he enjoyed the place after closing hours. Something about an empty bar, with the dimmed oranges and reds under the tables gave him a fuzzy feeling in his chest. No yelling, or drunken girls (or guys) trying to swoon him into a free drink. It simply gave off a really cozy and warm vibe.

The Hell Gates was a pretty famous bar. It was almost always full, buzzing with people and laughter, and relatively cheap drinks. It was tucked into a darker alley of poor-er part of London. Sure, it dragged in some questionable company, but they were so far decent enough to pay their tab and not damage his furniture. Maybe it was simply because of the owners nature.

Crowley inherited it from his distant uncle about 5 years ago. It wasn't happy discovery, because he was forced to settle down. But once he checked it out, the whole building kind of grew on him. Plus, he finally had a convenient reason to be in London, other than the one he wouldn't admit. Even to himself.

Slowly, he flipped a small switch under the table, and the dull underlight, along with music turned off, leaving only a small light by the back door. Crowley gave a small check of the place and then, satisfied, made his way to the back.

He snatched his leather jacket and shrugged it on, while grabbing his car keys and phone. He checked out any notifications. He had a few emails, mostly business related, and one Prince from Nigeria promising thousands of pounds. He rolled his eyes and texted a quick 'there in 5'. He stuck his phone back to his pocket, knowing the person wouldn't even see it. But habit was a strong thing.

Outside, the air was cold with the early spring nights. It was crisp, with scent of trash and London. Crowley locked the back doors and easily spun the keys on his finger, as he made his way trough the alley. Once he was inside, he eyed his beloved, vintage Bentley, that was parking outside. He adored his car to bits, with all of it's quirks and such. And he even had bought it with his own money. The sometimes lucky bastard he was.

And then, he noticed a woman standing by, with eyes scanning across the clearly not fitting car to the area. Crowley cleared his throat as he walked over, which made the woman jump a bit and look up. She was in tight fitting dress,with thick coat and bright lipstic. A woman, which was dancing probably untill 10 minutes ago in a karaoke bar.

"Oh..heyy" she smiled at him pleasantly. Crowley knew that look and exhaled trough his nose.

By no means was he against fun. He could admire a pretty body. And the stares he got. Because Crowley got stares. With his lithe and tall body, bright ginger hair that was cut short about 3 years ago and stayed that way. He had a lazy swagger to him, his hips swinging, creating an image about him. A sexy one at that. The only thing about the man screamed sort-of-douchebag to strangers. He wore shades, even inside. Well, even everywhere. The man barely took them off, giving him a misterious vibe. The opposite was truth.

But he really didn't feel like having too much fun these last years. He gave the girl an even look. "Hey" he said back, little colder than he intended to. She shrugged to herself and smirked.

"Nice ride" the woman muttered and licked her lips, taking a step back.

"Yeah, I know" he said evenly and with that, he moved and unlocked his car, sliding behind the drivers seat. The smell of leather, a food that spilled had been in his car about a month ago (for which he almost skinned himself, because in the end, he /did/ go a little too fast and hit the brakes a little too strong) and his own colone. It was a familiarity he loved. Firmly, he shut the doors, didn't give the woman a second glance and turned on the engine. Crowley pulled out from the parking space and was on his way off.

Since it was nighttime, the streets were a tad more empty. Which made it easier to go 90. Others called him a mad driver. He liked to say that he drove in worse conditions and survived.

Crowley got in front of the A.Z.Fell's Bookshop under 20 minutes. His personal top was 10, but that were different circumstances and he may have been a little bit tipsy. Just a nudge.

Smoothly, Crowley slided from his seat and shut the doora behind himself, looking around the street. Silent as always. Even if the shop was in more rich part, Crowley always felt more homely atmosphere there, than any shops...anywhere, really.

Without a second thought, Crowley walked up the few steps. The shop was already closed, the blinds down, but Crowley fished out a spare key from his pocket and unlocked the doors. 

The strong scent of books, dust and candles really hit a person after a whole day of sniffing alcohol. Crowley turned around, locked the doors and turned back at the shop, sticking his hands into his pockets. Crowley was, by no means, a poor person. He owned a famous bar, had a pretty space-y apartment and owned a vintage, but against his best friend, it was nothing.

Aziraphale collected old books. Really old books. Mostly first editions, the ones that authors would sign with little personal messages inside. Crowley seen his fare share of books that were so expensive that Aziraphale's computer gave up on life, trying to figure out the price. But Zira was more of a collector. Keeping his prized possesions in the back. The ones he was willing to sell out in the front.

Crowley walked towards the back and soon saw his best friend. Aziraphale was hunched over some old book, as always. In his thick sweater (because the building had a messed up heating) and fancy pants. His almost white hair in a neat mess.

The taller and lankier of the two knocked the doorframe, which caused a minor flinch in the smaller man.

"Oh must you always do that, Crowley?" grumbled softly Aziraphale as he glanced up from his work. Small, innocent grinn appeared on Crowley's lips.

"Yeah, it's fun. I don't get how you can still get suprised" Crowley said and moved more into the back room, where was a heavy scent of tea and cocoa. Subcontiously, he licked his lips as he walked to Zira's chair and leaned over. "What do you have your nose in again anyways?" 

"Oh! It's wonderfull" he immediately cheered up, the small squable forgoten. "It's a first edition of the Nostradamus' Prophecies! It was pretty popular, so there is a bunch of prints, but first was the one where he tried to predict the Ottoman invasions!" Aziraphale said with exictement as he listed trough the old, almost orange pages.

"Huh. Man really tried to warn us" Crowley said with mild amusement which caused Zira to roll his eyes with a gentle sigh.

"I bet you've been sitting above that for hours. You really should eat something" Crowley smirked a little bit and Aziraphale immediately turned at his best friend. 

"What time is it? I hope not too late" Aziraphale mumbled and tried to look for the watches he had to pull off so the gloves would fit better.

"2 am. But that small chinese non-stop should be still open" Crowley helpfully supplied and Aziraphale let out a soft groan. None the less, he got up and put on his old, cream coloured coat and gently brushed it off, closing the book and covering it with a small net cloth. Then he turned at the ginger.

"One day, we should go on a normal lunch. Not an extremely late dinner" Aziraphale remarked.

"Or very early breakfast" replied Crowley said with a small grin as he walked trouch the shop, watching Aziraphale turn off all the lights and check few books, before the duo walked on the street.

"It still baffles me that you work without sleep for a week, not a single drop of coffee around" Crowley said as he leaned on his Bentley, watching Aziraphale set alarm and then lock the doors.

"It's practice, my dear. And colleage. They say you sleep it off after school. But the sleep pattern sticks" Zira chuckled softly. 

"Oh, yeah. Wouldn't know about that" Crowley snickered and watched Zira walk closer. "Well, hop in, angel" he smirked and walked around, sliding behind the wheel. Aziraphale moved on the passengers seat and settled down there, buckling up.

"How was the bar today?" Asked Zira curiously as Crowley pulled on the road. Small grimace formed itself on Crowley's face, before he shook his head. Just remembering about Hastur brought sick feeling to his gut.

"Oh, alright. You know. It's a bar. Drunk people and horny people" Crowley snickered and Azira shook his head with a small hum.

"You still like it" Aziraphale said as he stared outside of the car. Crowley didn't have to see the smug grin to know it's there.

"It's whatever. Pays the bills and all. So what, if I put a little effort?" he replied and waved his hand. They had this small squable for about 2 years now.

"Crowley, you stick around London for five years now. You have to admit you like it. Or London. But we know both the truth" Aziraphale chuckled, not a single lick of heat in his voice.

"Hmm..for sure. Now hold your horses" he smirked and went to 90. That always efficiently shut the smaller man up. Sure did now too.

They reached the small chinese restaurant in about 10 minutes. They danced between this, and sushi bar, the Kouzu, on Grosvenor Gardens, just because of the opening hours, plus, they did serve good food. Not that Crowley ate much. He just enjoyed a cup of late coffee, maybe some smaller portion, to not seem out of place. But only the evenings Aziraphale really insisted on him trying the food.

The duo made their way into the small restaurant and slid behind their usual table, one by the window. It was warm there, with smell of spices and chicken broth, which Crowley wasn't a huge fan of, but it did settle an atmosphere. Crowley had his legs stretched out, while Aziraphale's were open wide, so Crowley had a space to stretch his.

The man behind the counter walked over, since there didn't seem to be anybody else, besides three girls bunched up in one corner, laughing softly above one phone.

"Hello Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley" he greeted both of them with the sense of knowing, which goes with a couple of years of regular nightly visits. "What will it be tonight?" he asked Aziraphale, rarely ever asking Crowley, since the man usually had only a cup of black coffee, no cream or sugar.

"I think I will go with sweet and sour chicken tonight. And the usual drink" Aziraphale said with a pleased smile. The man nodded and dissapeard into the kitchen. Crowley rised his eyebrow with a smile. Aziraphale mumbled something along the lines of 'I am feeling meat tonight'.

"Hey, you know I don't judge" Crowley chuckled and threw his arm over the back rest, tilting his head and looking out at the dark street. Aziraphale only let out acknowleging hum and seemed to fold his arms in his lap.

"One day, we should really take a break" suddenly remarked Zira and Crowley turned at him.

"Strange comming out of you. Elaborate, angel" Crowley chuckled, the pet name used more than the man's actual name. Not that Aziraphale barely called Crowley by his first name.

"Well..when was the last time we both actually slept trough whole night?" Aziraphale glanced up with curious look. Crowley was silent for a beat and then began to play with a white, sqare tissue on the table.

"Mine comes with a job. I have my excuse" Crowley smirked faint, his eyes would be glistening, if it weren't for shades. Aziraphale still saw it.

"But you definetly wouldn't be opposed.." Zira said with a voice that said it wasn't a question.

"Of course not. Just..you know. Timing. And everything else. And I doubt you wouldn't have home sickness for your books. Book-sickness..that doesn't sound right" Crowley frowned in thought, for a second lost in his head.

"..anyways" Aziraphale cleared his throat and smoothed his pants. 

"I think it would do us both good. Someday, in the near future. Perhaps..we could finally go to the Ritz" Aziraphale chuckled and Crowley felt blush climb on back of his neck. It almost sounded like a date. Almost. And all too tempting. 

"Hmm..maybe. Getting my hopes up, Aziraphale" he said with a chuckle, which turned the angel pink. Before he could argue, his food came, and Crowley knew that he was in second place of Aziraphale's attencion.

While Aziraphale softly groaned at the food (which was impossible, and little unfair, due the fact that he had that meal about hundred times now, and he always made it sound so pleasurous), Crowley simply watched him, scratching his chin lazily and sipping from his coffee. Crowley was precise, and 20 minutes later, Aziraphale was wiping his mouth with face that screamed 'guilty pleasure'.

"Today's my treat" Crowley offered and Aziraphale huffed, but didn't argue, knowing very well that there was no point in arguing with the ginger. While he was paying for the bill by the counter, his phone blew up with texts, which almost never happend. Only when Aziraphale found some plant that Crowley would've liked, and he completely spammed their chat with photos and heart/angel emojis. 

Crowley pulled out his phone and frowned at the unknown numbers. But it didn't take long to figure out who it was.

'You snake'  
'Fucking traitor is what you are'  
'If Beel is in jail because of you for real, expect the worst you ever lived'  
'Dead is what you are  
'We'll come for you'

Crowley felt a shiver run up his spine. Hastur and Ligur. There was sure, some recent history that involved a newfound gang that grew to like his bar. That was the sort of bad crowd that Hell Gates sometimes dragged in. And Crowley knew he was fucked.


End file.
